Leigh

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.”
― Howard Phillips Lovecraft, The Nameless City

“JUDAS: Why ... didn't you make me good enough ... so that you could've loved me?”
― Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot

“JESUS: Judas! … Judas, don’t you know what would happen the very instant you got down on your knees?
JUDAS: Why on my knees? They shoulda buried me standing up—’cuz I been on my knees my whole life! You left me.

JUDAS is slowly reverting to his frozen catatonic state.

JESUS: I’m right here.
JUDAS: I would have never believed that you could have left me.
JESUS: I never left you.
JUDAS: That you didn’t love me.
JESUS: I do love you.
JUDAS: Why … didn’t you make me good enough … so that you could’ve loved me?
JESUS: … Please take my hands, Judas. Please.
JUDAS: Where are they?
JESUS: Right here.
JUDAS: I can’t see them.
JESUS: They’re right here.
JUDAS: Where are you going?!
JESUS: I’m right here.
JUDAS: Don’t leave me!
JESUS: I’m here.
JUDAS: I can’t hurt …
JESUS: I love you, Judas.
JUDAS: I can’t …
JESUS: Please stay.
JUDAS: I can’t hurt …
JESUS: Please love me, Judas.
JUDAS: I can’t.

JUDAS is frozen again.”
― Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot

“My gods dwell in temples made with hands; and within the circle of actual experience is my creed made perfect and complete: too complete, it may be, for like many or all of those who have placed their heaven in this earth, I have found in it not merely the beauty of heaven, but the horror of hell also. When I think about religion at all, I feel as if I would like to found an order for those who CANNOT believe: the Confraternity of the Faithless, one might call it, where on an altar, on which no taper burned, a priest, in whose heart peace had no dwelling, might celebrate with unblessed bread and a chalice empty of wine. Every thing to be true must become a religion. And agnosticism should have its ritual no less than faith. It has sown its martyrs, it should reap its saints, and praise God daily for having hidden Himself from man.”
― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis